


Car Ride

by HawkyBarton



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Clint gets car sick, M/M, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2341655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkyBarton/pseuds/HawkyBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Origin story of how Clint and Phil met, how Phil brought Clint in, and how Clint became an Avenger</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Ride

            I’ve always hated car rides, they make me sick. Something about the motion as the car drives along the road triggered my gag reflex and I was miserable for the rest of the ride. Which was pretty fucking pathetic because I was a troupe member in a traveling circus – half of my time was spent in a car. Can you imagine 100 or so days out of the year just being sick to your stomach? Because trust me, it sucked. Some days I wish I had just never run away to the circus, that I had stayed in the orphanage while my stupid older brother had run off and hopefully been adopted into a nice family. That I hadn’t been naïve enough to think that a circus was a better option, that ‘staying with my only family left’ had been the only way to go. But no, I was too young to even think about the consequences of what joining a circus even meant. I had no idea of how much hard work was put into working at a circus, how many sacrifices I would have to make to keep on living here. I had left the orphanage at age nine and here I am, still in the circus, ten years later.

            Ten years was a long time for a kid, especially a kid who got car sick. Half the time I was in misery, the other half of the time I was working. Helping set up, helping tear down, doing my act four times a day, helping man the booths when I wasn’t doing my act – it was all exhausting. I didn’t get paid very much and I didn’t get to eat very often, but as the ring master said, I was too _stupid_ to ever make it anywhere else. I had tried to leave once, just to see what would happen, but I didn’t get very far. I had ridden into town with a few of the workers to shop for groceries for the next couple of months, and I had ran away as soon as the car was stopped. By that time I was one of the top billings, so I was ‘important’ and was found quickly and beaten hard enough to be in pain while I performed (but not hard enough that I couldn’t perform). I knew I could never escape after that day, so here I stayed, a circus freak for the rest of my life.

            Well, I wasn’t exactly one of the ‘freaks’ you so often saw at a circus of carnival – I shot arrows, you know like Robin Hood? An archer. World’s Greatest Marksman, that’s what I was billed as. I could hit anything with anything, not just with my bow. Give me a dart competition, and you’ll be out 200 dollars without even blinking; give me a gun and we’ll be having bear for dinner. I could spot any target and shoot it within a millimeter, my eyesight was something like 20/4 the doctor had said when I was a kid, it was so rare because only birds had that. I guess my eyesight made up for my lack of everything else: no brains, my hearing was shit, and according to the fortune teller – I had _no_ taste (probably because I saw the Die Hard movie eight times since it came out last year).

            But anyway, the circus was traveling to Upstate New York – somewhere that we hadn’t been since my stupid brother had left the circus (along with my mentor and about 3 months’ worth of money from the circuses’ account books), and I was a little bit nervous that something would happen like that again. I wasn’t usually a nervous kid, I knew when to step out of the way of the fan when things got bad – but this time, I just had this nervous feeling I can’t get rid of. The strong man told me that I should stop reading books at night and that would end my nervousness, but hell, the strong man also never went to school ever (at least _I_ passed the 2nd grade!). We had been on the road for three days, having just finished up in Raleigh, North Carolina and trying to beat the frost by pushing the caravans as hard as we could to get to New York in a speedy time. I was in the caravan with all the animals, still considered rookie in their eyes (ten years a rookie, Jesus), and as such – I had to be nauseous with horse manure in my nose for however long we traveled – did I mention how I wish I had stayed at the orphanage?

            The whole trip took five days, and I had never been happier to get onto dry land in my life. There was a little bit of snow on the ground, and I appreciated the briskness of the air hitting my face immediately. Something about winter always made me feel alive, the cold revitalized your soul, made it seem more pure. I also liked making snow angels, but don’t tell anybody or they’ll call me a baby.

            Setting up took a lot less time than usual, nobody wanting to stay out to long in the cold, especially since nobody got off for getting sick. When we were done, into the tent I went to practice, because practice makes perfect and I _had_ to be perfect. The others usually went off to their trailers to sleep for a bit before the evening show, but no, not me. I had to be on the ball at all times, I had to pull my weight around here – if I was too stupid to do anything better than this, than I had to be my best at the thing I could do, otherwise what was the point in my existence? Hours I practiced, hours to make sure that every trick I had up my sleeve was perfected, that I would never go even an inch off of my target. I only stopped when I got the hour warning from the fortune teller, an hour to get ready to perform, just enough time to wash and get into my costume.

            I used to share my trailer with my stupid older brother, which had been a nightmare when he used to bring townies back to camp with him; usually when that happened I had had to sleep in the main tent to get away from the noise. But now, thankfully, I have the trailer to myself– no more brother and no more girls. I could finally get some quiet. Some people (the ring master’s wife) would say I sounded lonely and needed company (the ringmaster’s daughter), but I liked being alone. When I’m alone nothing bad can happen without me knowing it immediately, and I can always be in control. Plus, I don’t have to follow anyone’s rules.

            I took a poor man’s shower with a bottle of water, threw on my costume and burst out the door to get into the tent for the opening number. I was surprised at how big an audience we had, this stop hadn’t actually been planned – so the turn out should have been small. As the Ring Master entertained the full house, I watched as the acrobats limbered up for their entrance, their ugly yellow leotards looking even uglier than usual. Maybe it was the glare from the snow reflecting onto the nylon material, or maybe I was just imagining things.

            I watched as each separate act went onstage to be introduced: the acrobats, the clowns, the animals, the strong man and swordsman (the two always worked well with each other), and then me. My solo act was the last one in the performance because I usually had the biggest tricks, and as the Ring Master put it, “Your body will keep the ladies in the seats waiting for you to come onstage”. A weird notion, but I was okay with that – people ogling me wasn’t anything new (though girls weren’t usually my preference, not that anybody in this circus would understand that).

            The opening number ended and off I went to help out the vendors for the next hour until I my act was on deck. Usually I could tell when I was needed before someone was sent for me by the gasps people gave when the swordsman began to swallow his sword (a trick that I was personally fond of and learned secretly until he caught me and taught me the proper technique). By the time I actually got to the tent the people were applauding and I was able to step out to a house of smiling faces.

            My act wasn’t the longest, but for my standards it was still pretty lengthy. Fifteen minutes full of constant action, calculating angles, swallowing down any worry that I would hurt my ‘volunteers’ with the stupid William Tell thing (I hate when history teachers come watch me perform and try and talk to me about archery), and making sure the audience was entertained. It was exhausting and even after the uproarious applause I was always unsatisfied. Ten years of exhausting days and nights, and I was sick of it. I was ready to move on with my life, but where would I go? What place would take a stupid white track hick that’s only talent was shooting a weapon that was last popular during the times of Robin Hood and the Crusades? Nobody. Nobody wants that because nobody needed that. So here I stay, in the circus, until I die – or until I get seriously injured.

            I stepped off the stage at the end of my act and was about to head over to the vendors (hopefully I could be at the sharpshooting tent this time, the lady who ran that was nice), when I was stopped by the Ring Master.

            “Clinton”

            I blinked. Nobody had called me by my actual name in over 5 years, I was called ‘rookie’ or ‘newbie’ or ‘hey, you’.

            “Yes sir?”

            “I have a man who wants to talk to you”

            I frowned, a man who wants to talk to me? That can’t be good… Maybe my stupid older brother was dead and he had debts that needed to be paid.

            “A man sir?”

            “Yes Clinton, he seems the type that doesn’t like to be kept waiting… Hop to it son!”

            Jerking, I rushed over to the Ring Master’s office where I knew the man would be waiting. My predictions were correct, right in front of the door was a man. From what I could tell about him, he wasn’t our usual sort of customer. Most of the people that came to see the circus were middle class people who either had a bit of money to spare for a date night or a family weekend, or were the people who scrimped and saved to give their family the circus as their ‘family day’. They almost always wore causal clothes: jeans and t-shirts, sometimes skirts. But never what this guy was wearing, a really nice fitted suit. The closer I got, the more and more this man seemed like the only clean spot in the grimy circus – he looked like some sort of beacon. There was a moment where I wish I could have run away, but the thought was fruitless as the man had pinned his gaze to me and I couldn’t go anywhere but to where he was. At first, when the Ring Master had said a man wanted to see me, I had thought it was for my older brother, then I had thought this man had wanted ‘something else’ from me, but when I got face to face with him – I knew it was probably neither of those. He had a calm persona about him, he was a little older than me, maybe late 20s, slightly balding and had a sweet (but unsuspecting) face. For some reason, this made me both want to trust him – and to run away as quick as possible.

            Gulping, I came to a stop right in front of him “You wanted to see me sir?” I stammered softly.

            The man smiled and nodded “Yes Clint, I did. Do you know a good place where the two of us could talk in privacy?”

            “This ain’t about my brother is it?” I burst out, before blushing slightly, I had never been so direct before.

            The man just smirked though “No, this isn’t about Charles, this is about you.”

            I almost hiss at the mention of my brother’s name, but I was able to control myself long enough to nod “Yeah, if you wanna go to my trailer we can be alone.”

            If it wasn’t for the fact that the man looked the way he did, I would have suspected that he was hankering for something other than just a ‘talk’, but a man in that nice of a suit wasn’t the kind for playing around. I lead him over to my trailer and let him inside, “Don’t mind the mess, I haven’t had a chance to clean up in a while.” The man waved away my comment and sat down on my bed, leaving me to sit on the chair across from him.

            “So we’re alone….”

            The man smiled, “Yes we are. My name is Phillip and I’m here to talk to you about a job that I think would suit you perfectly.”

            I shook my head at him “I’m too dumb for work that you’re thinking of sir, and if it’s the other kind of ‘job’ I would rather just stay here.” Phil shook his head and I could see some sort of sadness in his eyes “No Clinton, you aren’t too dumb and I’m not offering ‘that sort of job’. I work for an organization that hires people with certain skill sets, people that want to do something with their lives. From what I’ve seen of your performances, I think you would be perfect for my organization, and so does my boss.”

            “What do you mean, ‘people that want to do more with their lives’?”

            “We’re the good guys Clinton, that’s what I mean. We’re an organization that wants to take out all the bad guys in the world, and I think you would do well there. It would certainly be better than here.”

            I shook my head, “Look… Phillip…. I’m just a hick circus freak, I’m not one of the ‘good guys’… and I’ve done things that wouldn’t be too good in your organization.”

            Phillip looked me dead in the eyes and leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his legs “Clinton, I am fully aware of your history. Born in Waverly, Iowa in 1970 to Edith and Harold, you grew up on your father’s abusive hand and your mother’s neglectful one. At age 6 your father crashed his car into a tree and killed both your mother and himself- you and your brother Charles were sent to a nearby orphanage. At age 9 you and your brother left the orphanage for the circus that had been touring in town. You worked in the circus for a year when you went under the tutelage of Jacques Duquesne and Buck Chisholm – the Swordsman and the archer of the troupe at the time. Your brother was also being tutored by the men, but wasn’t nearly as good as you. About a year or so into the tutoring, Duquesne and Chisholm decided that you would be perfect for their string of thefts that would do in the towns the circus were stopped at. This ended with you having at least 5 murders on your hand when they forced you to shoot someone, and 5 years ago in New York the two plus your brother left you for dead when you found out that they were stealing from the circus as well. You stayed at the circus until now and haven’t had any contact with your brother or you mentors since then”

            I felt my face go pale as I stood up, “How do you know-”

            “I’ve very good at my job Clinton, and I know a lot more, but my boss and I don’t care, we just want you on our side. We’re going to give you all the amenities you’ve never had. Food, a steady pay check, all the tech you want, clothes, a place to sleep, health insurance, and a chance to do something with life. You should take us up on our offer.”

            I looked at Phillip and tried to make a decision. On one hand, I would be free from the circus – I could live my own life and actually _do_ something with it. On the other hand, I would be leaving the only world I had ever truly known. What could this place offer me that the circus couldn’t? Phillip looked nice and trustful, but hell, so did my pop when he wasn’t drinking and smacking his family around. This place has everything I could ever want, but what would happen if I get fired? Where would I be then?

            I guess Phillip could sense my distress, “You don’t _have_ to decide now. You could give me a call before you leave New York if you want to stay, or don’t if you don’t. I won’t be upset either way”

            I smiled at Phillip, he just gave me an out. “I like that idea, thank you”, Phillip nodded and jotted down something on a piece of paper before handing it to me, “This is my personal number, my car phone number, and the number for my job. Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions, or if you want to say yes early.”

            I nodded to him and gave a short wave as he left. Now I just had three days left to decide if I wanted to stay in the circus forever, or if I wanted to move on with life without any consequences from the Ring Master.

            I slept on my decision that night, and I didn’t even have to wait until we left the circus, I called Phillip the next morning and thirty minutes later he was picking me up and throwing my entire life in his trunk. We drove to a huge building in the outskirts of Manhattan, and before I knew it I was sitting in front of a black man with an eye patch, identifying himself as the ‘boss’ that Phillip had talked about.

The man looked at me “So, you want to be part of our organization?”

I nodded to the man, and he smirked “Knew Cheese would get you in. Welcome kid, I hope you enjoy yourself.”

I grinned, “I hope so too… But uhm, my name isn’t kid. Or Clinton.”

The boss and Phillip raised their eyebrows. “Oh?” spoke Phillip, “And what is your name?”

I smiled. “Clint.”

Phillip smirked, “Then you can call me plain old Phil…Clint.”

            “Okay plain old Phil” The boss snorted while Phil sighed, standing up to offer his hand to me “You’re going to fit in perfectly” I grinned and took his hand, letting me lead me outside. Yeah, I was going to fit in.

 

                                    ********~~~~~~~~~~**********

 

            It’s been 20 years since I was in the circus, and 20 years since I had said yes to Phil and Nick to working for their organization (my organization now too, I guess). It’s been a crazy and exhausting 20 years, but they’ve also been full of a lot of fun. I worked my way through the ranks in the organization from a junior agent up to a level 7 (one of the highest rankings). In the 20 years I’ve worked alongside Phil (and sometimes Nick) we’ve faced: Russian assassins (Now a few of my best friends I might add), an alien or two (also a few of my best friends), a few billionaires (best friends), a few experimental scientists (once again best friends), a few monsters and robots, countless life or death missions, almost dying thousands of times, an alien invasion, a world war or two, a marriage, raising children, becoming super heroes, and raising certain childish adults.

            It took me years to feel comfortable around Phil, and even longer to consider him anything more than a work partner. Now he’s my best friend and a lifelong companion, alongside being one of the most badass men I have ever met.

            A lot has changed in the last 20 years, most of it for the better. No more sleepless nights, no more horse manure, no more townies trying to sneak a grab at my ass. But I’ll tell you one thing that hasn’t changed – I still hate car rides….

                             But at least I have someone to ride in them with me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> ((You can prompt me if you wish for other fics, or for any ideas you may have about this fic at [ Hellogoodbye](http://hellogoodbye741.tumblr.com/ask)))


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